


Retail therapy only buys so much

by Emilys_List



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Episode: s03e22 The Job, F/M, Retail Therapy, Scranton, Shopping, Steamtown Mall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-05
Updated: 2007-12-05
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilys_List/pseuds/Emilys_List
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Karen tries to better Jim via her credit card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retail therapy only buys so much

**Author's Note:**

> True story, inspired by "Upgrade U" by Beyonce. Still read it, okay?
> 
> DISCLAIMER: None of this is mine. Cordially, Present Day Emily

She liked the dark purple tie. Plum. She squinted, looking for something else in the material, but it was just a tie, after all. The tie in her other hand was an iridescent blue. Too bright. And embroidery was not cute on a grown man unless it was a monogram. In the end she picked both. They were on sale and the ties in his closet sucked.

Karen didn’t intend to buy him anything. It started out innocently enough. She wanted to explore the Mall at Steamtown and felt incredibly depressed at the lack of her favorite stores. She settled on Boscov’s and shopped through her depression, accruing a DKNY blazer on sale among many, many other items. She happened upon the men’s department, her arms burdened by bags. Her eyes caught on boxer briefs and her cheeks actually tinged pink. They were new. They were so, so new. God, he was great. She smiled at the display of men’s underwear and was somehow propelled forward, sick and crazy over him. They were so new and he was adorable. His clothes needed help, just a little boost. Maybe…

When she checked out at the register, the sky was black. Being in a mall was just like being in a casino, she thought. Without looking at the receipt – because she wasn’t brave enough to look at the damage – she signed her name with a flourish and took her heavy bags to the car.

He liked some of what she’d bought for herself – underwear, a cute dress – and he liked some of what she’d bought for him. He never wore the ties, though, and she tried to pretend like it didn’t matter.

+

They drifted off to sleep after angry make-up sex. No touching, because angry make-up sex wasn’t really about cuddling afterwards. She turned away and her eyes went to the dried circle on the pillow where tears had recently fallen. The poly-blend sheets under her fingers were light green and though the mark would eventually fade, it had not done so yet. This was going to keep her up for at least another hour.

It wasn’t anything specific. In a long string of late night talks, it didn’t need to be specific for her to break down crying, hysterical, curled up into a ball at the corner of his couch. She wished several times (in English, French, Mandarin and Farsi) that she had never come to Scranton.

He’d coaxed her back to bed and wedged his way back into her good graces. For the time being. Later, she bought him brand new sheets with a high thread count, and it was her sincere hope that no stains would linger.

+

She didn’t buy a new suit for her interview, but she did receive a gift from her best friend Laine. Gardenia by Marc Jacobs arrived from overnight delivery with a note:

K- I had my assistant buy it, hope that doesn’t dilute the gesture. You’re gonna kill. Can’t WAIT til we can grab drinks after work. –L .

She tested the spray against the inside of her wrist. Nice. It would do. She went back to bed, where Jim sat propped up, watching Arrested Development on his laptop. Because she was crazy for those glasses he wore in lieu of contacts while around the house, she kissed his neck. “Why don’t you watch that on the DVD player?”

He shrugged, but looked at her and smiled. That was a change. She settled into the crook of his neck as his hair tickled her face. “Halpert, I feel like I should make some joke about the Beatles.”

“Why?” She felt his cheeks move as he smiled. He loved watching George Michael interact with Maeby.

“The hair.” Her fingers stroked the soft hair at the back of his neck. “It’s not a grown up haircut. In fact, I don’t think anyone does this anymore.”

“Yeah,” he said, and she was uncertain if he was listening to her or not. She sat up, moving away to face him. She reached out and touched his knee, and he peeked at her from his peripheral vision. It had been really difficult after that day at the beach. She didn’t speak to him on the drive home, or for the next day, but when that day ended, it was done. He had done everything he could to show her that he was devoted to their relationship and her trust was beginning to grow. Okay, she thought, one more thing.

“What about a haircut?” she said in a rush. “For your interview. So you’ll look hot.”

He squinted, shutting his laptop. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m not looking for David Wallace to find me ‘hot.’” He stowed it away and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. But he offered his arm, and she ignored his melancholy, letting herself be cozy, molded into his side.

“Okay, I take back hot. Don’t you want to look professional? And you know, not so, homeless?” He chuckled for a moment, but it wasn’t quite long enough. Her wanting to keep this afloat filled in the silence. “We’ll both get haircuts.”

“I’m only in if you get a Mohawk.” He deflected her, he was so good at that, why was he so good at that?

“I’m serious, Halpert. This will be good for you.”

He relented eventually, which made her happy. The trust was beginning to grow.

.end.


End file.
